


Running Out

by memorizingthedigitsofpi



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Gen, I don't even know anymore, Texting, euphemistic bathroom issues, taco tuesday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2015-04-19
Packaged: 2018-03-24 17:01:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3776416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/memorizingthedigitsofpi/pseuds/memorizingthedigitsofpi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jemma desperately needs help and Fitz is her knight in two-ply armour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Running Out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [notapepper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notapepper/gifts).



> I'd like to thank notapepper/typhanni for giving me this (I'm sure she thought sarcastic) prompt in a comment on The Dancing Men. Let this be a lesson to you all: if you give me a crack prompt, I will probably end up writing it. I have zero self-control.

Jemma whimpered as she hurried back to the washroom. She'd barely left it all night, and she was desperate for some sleep. It was 2am and she was sincerely regretting her participation in Taco Tuesday. She hadn't been this... under the weather since an unfortunate vacation incident when she was 12.

She sat there, not-so-patiently waiting for her bowels to stop turning themselves inside out, playing Candy Crush on her phone and listening to a playlist to drown out any other sounds that might be occurring.

When it finally seemed like she might be... finished, she reached for the toilet paper and found there were only three squares left. Normally, this would be a moment when she'd be filled with indignation that someone would fail to do something as simple as replace the roll, but she knew she had no one to blame but herself. For the last several hours, she doubted anyone had been in there besides her.

She turned slightly in her seat and opened the cupboard beneath the vanity to grab another roll. That's when her stomach flipped over and felt even _worse_. There was nothing there.

She held her breath for a moment of panic before opening the door beside it. Perhaps someone had put the paper away incorrectly? Her hopes were dashed as soon as they had arisen. This was preposterous! Whose turn was it to restock the bathrooms? She needed to give someone a _very_ stern talking to.

Groaning, she clutched her abdomen as she was overtaken by another surge of... illness. If she ever ate another taco again, it would be too soon.

" _They're great_ ," Coulson had said. " _You'll love them_ ," he'd promised.

Jemma grit her teeth and imagined all of the ways she could make him experience what she was experiencing now. She had access to everything she needed in the lab. And it was her turn to cook tomorrow. She could knock his gut bacteria so far out of whack he'd...

She groaned again. This was definitely the worst she'd ever felt. Add in the fact that she couldn't even... clean up, and she couldn't imagine feeling any more disgusting.

She sat there for what felt like forever, but it seemed like the last paroxysm might have been the final one. She certainly _hoped_ it was, at least. But she was still stuck here with nothing but a cardboard tube and a few meager scraps of cotton for company. She looked around desperately for some facial tissues, even a first aid kit for gauze, but to no avail. Finally, her gaze landed on her cell phone.

She bit her lip as she pressed it on. 3:15am. Typing out a quick message, she hit send before she could think better of it. Then she set the phone on the bathroom counter and waited.

 It didn't take long at all for him to reply. She wasn't surprised, though, night owl like he was. If she were texting at 8am, now _that_ would be a different story.

"If only," she muttered to herself. Taking a deep breath, she decided she might as well get right to it. She couldn't very well _not_ get any help at this point.

That was good. Gentle lead-in. This wasn't the sort of conversation she wanted to have with _anyone_ , but the fact that it was through text did make it a bit easier to... she'd been about to say easier to digest, but that was just in poor taste considering.

Speaking of poor taste, considering:

She couldn't help laughing, though. That's one thing that Fitz always did better than anyone else. He could make her laugh, even when she just wanted to crawl into a hole and die. She rolled her eyes as she typed out her reply, but she was still smiling.

She was pretty sure that Skye had specified pictures as a key part of sexting. She was also pretty sure that Skye had specified that while deleting some of those pictures off of the internet. If that wasn't enough to warn her away from the practice, nothing would be.

She laughed and rolled her eyes again. Why couldn't he be this flirty in person. When she wasn't in the bathroom? And dealing with the aftereffects of a particularly potent meal? Apparently, texting made a lot of things easier to say.

This wouldn't be the first time Fitz had brought her something in the middle of the night because she couldn't leave her post. It _would_ be the first time he'd brought her toilet paper, though. And certainly the first time he'd ever delivered _anything_ to a bathroom. She took a deep breath and typed in her location. After pressing send, she carefully placed her phone on the vanity and closed her eyes. This was so  _embarrassing._

A few minutes later, there was a soft knock on the door.

"Simmons?" she heard Fitz whisper.

"Yes?" she replied, her voice muffled by the hands she held over her face.

"I've got your, um, your..." he cleared his throat and she could just picture the discomfort on his face. "I'll, uh, just leave it here shall I?" he asked.

She looked down at herself and the state she was in, and then she gauged the distance to the door. That probably wasn't going to work out too well.

"Could you..." she closed her eyes again and took a deep breath. "Could you maybe leave it _inside_ the door?" she asked quickly, trying to get the words out before she stopped herself.

"Insi--?" he stopped abruptly. He was probably rubbing the back of his neck now. Or maybe pacing outside the door. Or...

There was a rattling noise followed by a slight squeak as the door knob shook and then turned. The door opened a few inches and a roll of toilet paper was thrown in by a disembodied hand.

"I'm not looking!" Fitz reassured her. "Or breathing!" he continued. "Or anything!" The door quickly closed again.

Jemma reached down by her ankle to pick up the roll from where it had landed. Breathing a sigh of relief, she finally got herself cleaned up. Just as she was about to flush, she had a thought.

"Fitz?" she asked. "Are you still there?"

"I'm not listening either!" he replied.

"Then how did you hear me?" she asked.

There was a slight pause through the door. "What?" he asked.

Jemma shook her head and smiled, flushing the toilet and then washing her hands. She checked herself in the mirror to make sure she didn't look too terribly horrific and then straightened her pajamas before opening the door.

"Thank you, Fitz," she said seriously, standing on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "You're a life saver."

He blushed adorably and grinned. "Any time."

\------------------------

Fitz was recalibrating the sensors on one of the dwarfs, enjoying the peace and quiet he could only get late at night, when his phone vibrated. It was Simmons again. Poor girl must have caved to Coulson and tried Taco Tuesday again. He shook his head as he replied. Would she never learn?

He was just getting up to go to the supply closet when she replied. His eyebrows rose almost into his hairline as he read her message, and thoughts of supplies flew out of his brain instantly. Swallowing hard, he walked down the hallway to the bedrooms.


End file.
